"Ask me tomorrow," he said. "AndmaybeI'll tell ya."
Chapter 3
Harper
"So then," I told my sister, "he walks off, leavingmethe candy cane mocha."
On the living room sofa, Lexie was twisting her long, auburn hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She stopped twisting to ask, "And where was this? At the courthouse?"
From the nearest armchair, I gave a breezy wave of my hand. "Forget the location. The point is, I can think of only two reasons why he didn't drink it himself."
"Okay…? What are they?"
I held up an index finger. "One – it's a charity thing, like he feels sorry for me."
Lexie reached into the pocket of her red cardigan sweater and pulled out a couple of bobby pins. As she slid them into the impromptu bun, she asked, "But why would he feel sorry?"
Now,thiswas a tricky question. Even though I'd just relayed the story of the guy leaving me the mocha, I'd been slightly vague about the other details, such as where I'd parked my coffee truck or which customer I'd accidentally insulted.
And of course, I'd made no mention of where the coatless guy was currently living.
To my sister, I replied, "Well…if itwasa sympathy thing, it was probably because business was a little slow."
She gave me a funny look. "At the courthouse?"
I made a sound of impatience. "Forget the courthouse. I'm just saying there weren't a lot of customers, and maybe the ten dollars was charity, like a Christmas donation."
I thought of my new neighbor, the non-coffee drinker who I'd accidentally offended. Even though I hated the idea of receiving charity, I had to admit that he and his wife had beentryingto do a good deed.
Andwhathad they gotten in return?
Nothing good, that's for sure.
Before I moved back into my own house, I would have some serious making up to do. But that wouldn't be for a while. At the moment, Lexie and I were living at our aunt's place, which was five times the size and significantly fancier.
We'd been living here for exactly a week – not as house guests but as cat-sitters for my aunt's passel of kittens, plus Miss Lucy, the mom cat.
The kittens were only three-months old, and my aunt had recruited us to stay here and watch them while she was away in Switzerland, consoling a friend whose husband had gotten frisky with his personal masseuse.
And speaking of frisky, I watched with helpless amusement as a couple of the kittens scampered up my sister's sweater and made a beeline for the bun.
She laughed. "Nice try, stinkers." As she spoke, she gingerly lifted the kittens away from her hair and placed them onto her lap.
They stayed there for less than two seconds before scampering off toward the nearest Christmas tree, which remained undecorated for obvious reasons. They dashed upward until they reached their favorite branches and settled in to look out the front window.
Lexie gave me an apologetic look. "Sorry, what were you saying?"
The look was totally unnecessary. I loved cats.AndI loved my sister. As for the kittens, they were seriously adorable. Only the grinchiest of grinches wouldn't lovethem.
Waving away the apology, I replied, "I think the guy felt sorry for me, like I needed the money."
"Ormaybe," Lexie countered, "he just wanted to buy you a drink, like at a nightclub or something."
I gave it some thought. "Well, hedidcall me pretty, but that was totally unrelated."
This made her sit up. "Wait, he called you pretty?"
"Yeah, but it was part of a different conversation." I gave another dismissive wave of my hand. "The point is, he left the money but didn't take the drink. And even if hehadtaken the mocha, the tip would have been way too big, like thirty percent."
